


It's All In The Notebook

by gglow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry Styles - Freeform, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sick!Louis, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gglow/pseuds/gglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Their love is written in the stars, on the universe, on the molecule of the most delicate flower and on the chromosome of the freest bird. But most of all, it’s written on paper. It’s all in the notebook. All in that little notebook of his, filled with love for Louis. And it still isn’t enough. It will never be enough. Sometimes loving someone is hard, painful even. But it’s nothing compared to what it’s like to love Louis. And times like this, Harry doubts even dying would give him peace of mind.</p><p>...or where Louis suffers from sporadic fatal insomnia and Harry has a whole lot of love for him. Louis has 18 months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All In The Notebook

**Author's Note:**

> :) bonjour, so first of all i did a shit job writing this fic so sorry sorry sorry i just kinda felt crap last sunday and started writing and a couple of days later this came out sooooo
> 
> also unbeta’d so all the mistakes are mine etc AND english isnt my mother tongue oops hi
> 
> standard disclaimers apply, i don't know anything about anyone anywhere this text is a work of fiction and so on and so forth blah blah blah ok
> 
> buckle up and enjoy the experience of my late night self hatred fuelled writing extravaganza  
> (sorry for theres a lot of crying) (not sorry for the clichés)
> 
> i hope this makes you feel some sort of way i guess

**i.**

 

 

Louis is very pretty, is the thing.

 

That’s why it’s such a shame for it to go to waste. Harry tries so hard for it not to go to waste. See, Louis has these eyes. Blue, they are, and very nice indeed. There are skies, lagoons, oceans, glaciers, galaxies in whole in them. They’re the kind of eyes Harry just could sink into. And he has. He’s in pretty deep.

 

Louis is sharp. He is short-tempered and quick and acrimonious perfectly mirroring Harry’s patient, slow and friendly personality. His collarbones with cursive writing across them, collarbones, on which Harry likes to suck love bites to show that Louis is his, and his only. Louis has sharp cheek bones that lift up when he smiles, he doesn’t do that so much anymore, which is a real shame. He also has sharp white teeth that sometimes clank against Harry’s when they kiss.

 

Louis is soft. He has a soft belly, whose lines Harry traces with his tongue, making him squirm on their bed. He has soft curly eyelashes that flutter shut when he falls asleep, or moans (now more often than before). He has soft hair, which Harry tugs with his big hands when Louis gets his way with him.

 

Louis is curvy. The soft dip of his hip on which Harry’s hand fits perfectly. The curve of his eyebrow when he’s happy or sad or sarcastic. The curve of his lips when he smiles or pouts, lips Harry doesn’t remember not wanting to kiss.

 

Louis is all around full of edges and smooth skin. All around _perfect_. He’s a forever kind of boy. He’s Harry’s forever boy. He’s the kind of forever boy that you write poems about. And oh, Harry does. Plenty. He has a notebook just for Louis. Sometimes he writes poems about him sleeping or singing or falling apart beneath Harry or just laying in his arms.

 

Harry loves Louis. He loves him so much. So very much. He loves Louis until it hurts, so much it’s overwhelming, really. And he’s not sure if that’s good love, or if it’s the kind of love that leaves behind only empty people. The kind of people who jump off bridges.

 

Sometimes he loves Louis so much it’s hard to breathe. A giant lump just gets stuck in his throat. Sometimes his eyes water with it, his stomach hurts with it. But he can’t help himself. He can’t, he won’t stop loving Louis. Not now, not tomorrow, not next week, or next month, next year, not ever. Not ever will he stop loving Louis. He will love him after they’re both been long dead, probably.

 

Their love is written in the stars, on the universe, on the molecule of the most delicate flower and on the chromosome of the freest bird. But most of all, it’s written on paper. It’s all in the notebook. All in that little notebook of his, filled with love for Louis. And it still isn’t enough. It will never be enough. Sometimes loving someone is hard, painful even. But it’s nothing compared to what it’s like to love Louis. And times like this, Harry doubts even dying would give him peace of mind.

 

 

**ii.**

 

 

It’s been a month now. Not an easy one, no. But the following month will be worse. And the month after that. It’s been a whole month since Louis got the diagnose.

 

He had been getting poor sleep for the past few months, and then not at all. They had suspected a some kind of insomnia or something before going to the doctor’s. They had run some tests and called a few weeks later asking them to come to the clinic. So they went.

 

Louis had been diagnosed with _sporadic_ _fatal insomnia_ or _sFI_ as they called it. It’s caused by a mutation of some protein in the brain, causing the person to get only stage 1 non-REM sleep, which apparently is almost nothing at all. So, the person isn’t able to fall asleep. At all. Ever again. The person will eventually die of fatigue.

 

Louis would have roughly 18 months.

 

So, after a month of research of their own, they’ve come to the conclusion that the disease is shit. Apparently, there is no cure (which they knew of course but it still is kind of hard to swallow). The only thing they can do is slow it down. But the racking result is inevitable; Louis is going to die.

 

Louis quit his job and Harry reduced his to part-time. They have taken up yoga and early walks in the park, since they learned it could help Louis a bit. They eat ice cream, even though its late October. They go shopping and they eat outside. Harry writes poems.

 

Louis reads a lot and watches a lot of TV. He makes Harry breakfast, even though sometimes he has to leave it out. Not sleeping is exhausting. He takes little naps on the couch if he can. Usually he can’t. It’s starting to get harder. The scariest thing for both of them is the hallucinations. More than once has Harry woken up with Louis screaming in the living room, or crying, or laughing.

 

One time Harry bursted in the hallway to find Louis sobbing uncontrollably on the floor. He thought Harry had died in a car crash (thinking back it didn't make any sense - Harry was sleeping in the next room - but at night in the dark even the utopian starts to feel real). Louis was shaking and crying and chanting Harry’s name. It took many hours of spooning and kissing and whispering little nothings until Louis had entirely stopped weeping. He was still a bit clingy the next day (which Harry didn’t mind at all).

 

The other time Louis laughed out loud in their living room, saying that he was chatting with his long gone grandma, pointing at the empty arm chair in the corner of the room. Harry’s sad frown had drawn Louis back into the reality of the empty chair. He then had swallowed heavily, looking at everything except Harry. It was tough to admit, not that he’d been wrong, but that it was getting worse.

 

Still when they walk in the park or on the beach, Louis gives an odd look to a road sign or a telephone booth, and when Harry squeezes his shoulder and ask what is it, Louis just shakes his head and mutters something like ’ _M'not sure… just thought I saw someone_ ’.

 

The saddest thing isn’t the disease itself, or that Harry will lose the love of his life to it in a year. The saddest thing is seeing Louis lose himself. Day after day after day. His red eyes and thin wrists and pale skin. And the utter weariness of his essence. The moments when he realizes he’s not going to get better.

 

He is going to die.

 

 

**iii.**

 

 

Harry is… well he’s Harry. That’s an understatement, actually. It’s really a bit hard to explain. It’s in everything: the way he speaks, or walks or looks at Louis.

 

Well, firstly - he’s really _really_ fit. Like when he lifts something and Louis can see the muscles work under his skin or clothing. He’s also really flexible, which appeared when they started doing yoga (it's really hot). He has these amazing chocolate curls that tickle Louis’ face when they kiss. His green eyes are possibly Louis’ favorite color now. His pink lips curve into a smile once in a while, a little bit less now but still, and Louis wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him all day long. And he does.

 

Harry’s hands are big and amazing, you’d be surprised what all they can do. He has legs that go on for miles and he wears those same black skinny jeans that hug his thighs every day. Harry’s mouth always looks like love. It looks like there’s a rhyme or a sonnet on his lips, and usually there is. And usually it’s about Louis.

 

Harry’s also very nice. And not the kind of nice that opens a door for you; the kind of nice that calls little girls princesses and offers their seat to old people in busses. He’s warm and caring and Louis is almost certain that ”kind” is written in his genes. He’s also very clumsy and he has this deep raspy voice that sounds like a thunder storm and morning coffee at the same time.

 

Louis wants Harry to hold him forever. He’s so in love with this idiot boy who looks like poems and sunrises. He wants to live with him, he wants to love with him, he wants to conquer cities and countries with him. He wants the world with him. But Louis can’t give Harry anything he deserves, the only thing he has to trade is himself. His pathetic, withering self. And Harry takes it, and it’s perfect.

 

 

**iv.**

 

 

Louis remembers their first date. Of course he does. They were seeing the circus that had come to town. Louis thought it was a bit childish, but that was because back then he didn’t know Harry. It was sick, of course, circus always is. But the best part was seeing Harry watch the performances with an interested and confused glow in his eyes as the aerialists and the gymnasts proceeded to do amazing stunts with scarves and glow sticks and hula hoops.

 

After that they walked around the circus area, and Harry didn’t win Louis a giant teddybear (couldn’t blame him for trying, though). Instead he bought them ice cream and cotton candy and they walked down the beach holding hands after all the sugar they ate. They laughed a lot and Harry blushed when he called Louis pretty.

 

Harry walked Louis to his apartment downtown and they agreed on a second date. They said goodbye and Louis almost let Harry slip away, but he didn’t, and he pulled him into a sloppy kiss they both grinned into. It tasted like sugar and strawberries.

 

And back then, on a warm, sunny evening in July, Louis was pretty sure he was already in love with Harry.

 

 

**v.**

 

 

Now Harry’s spooning Louis as they watch _Lost_  on Netflix. Harry’s seen all the episodes of course, but Louis has had these marathons of watching some series episode after episode after episode. He can’t sleep, so he just watches TV until they do something else.

 

Harry has his arms wrapped around Louis’ body - he’s lost weight - and he watches him. Louis is pale, he has dark bags under his bloodshot blue eyes, his fingers are cold and his head rests heavily on Harry’s chest. He is so so beautiful, even now when he's too weak to even run. Harry wants to cry. Why does everything have to be so unfair? The episode ends and Louis turns off the telly.

 

”I think that’s enough for now, m’feeling a bit tired”, he says and sits up slowly. Not sleeping makes him slower and his moves heavier. It’s heartbreaking. Harry nods. Louis won’t sleep.

 

”Come to bed with me?” he says nevertheless.

 

”Yeah, in a minute”, Louis answers and lugs himself towards the bathroom. Harry tries not to look, because he knows Louis doesn’t want him to. He has to look away, eventually. He just stands up and walks to their bedroom, falling on the bed. There won’t be sex tonight. Nor has there been in a while. It’s mostly just blowjobs and hand jobs nowadays, not that Harry’d complain. How could he ever? It’s been over three months now. Soon Louis will regress to the second stage of the disease, which is basically like the first stage, but the panic attacks and other bullshit will be much stronger.

 

After a long time, longer every day, Louis slowly enters their bedroom and shuffles against Harry. The light filtering through the blinds makes Louis look like a fairy, or some kind of a sculpture. It’s snowing outside. Has been snowing all day. Harry can’t help himself and reaches just a little bit to stroke Louis’ cheek. He knows that in a year he can’t do that, so. He refuses to think that, though.

 

Louis turns to look at Harry and smiles dryly. His eyes flicker. His gaze travels on Harry’s face. They kiss, and they kiss again. Louis' chapped lips against Harry's soft pink ones. Harry’s chest tightens as the tears try to escape, he doesn’t let them. And there they are, two very unfortunate souls laying together on a bed, that will be that much much colder in time. Clinging on to each other because that's really all they can do. They fit, but maybe that's the reason Louis has to go. Maybe the universe wants to reach some kind of balance, maybe it doesn't want too many people to fall into place. 

 

They kiss again. And Harry tightens his grip on Louis, who clings on Harry like he’s the last thing keeping him on Earth. And they kiss through the pain and they kiss through the fear because that’s the only thing keeping them alive. A silent sob echoes in the room, and Harry’s not sure which of the two it was from, and frankly he doesn’t care.

 

Louis is soft against Harry’s lips. And Harry’s chest feels like it’s going to burst when he pulls Louis closer to close the possible space keeping them apart. And then they are just holding each other. Staring at each other because this shit disease is ruining everything for them. Holding back tears because Harry knows there will be no one after Louis. That Louis was the only shot he got. And Louis is aching because he doesn’t want to leave, not yet. And because he’s scared. And because he doesn’t want to go, he just wants to hold onto Harry. And he wants to _sleep_.

 

”Haz…” Louis lets out a broken breath, like a plea.

 

”What is it love?” he asks immediately and pulls away just enough to see Louis’ face, eyebrows furrowed.

 

”Could you— could you sing something? Please?” Louis whispers and struggles to keep his eyes focused on Harry. It’s hard to focus on anything these days, really.

 

Harry’s gaze washes over Louis as he thinks of a song. He blinks slowly and opens his mouth, throat dry and voice hoarse:

 

” _Corks off, it's on - the party's just begun. I promise this drink is my last one-_ ”

 

He feels Louis shiver in his arms, and wipes his fringe off his face. His jaw in unshaved.

 

” _Don't leave me, I… Oh, I'd hate myself until I die-_ ”, they both know what’s coming and it’s breaking through Harry’s lips, and it’s breaking through their consciousness and the walls might just as well tumble down ’cause whats the worth. Nothing matters anymore.

 

” _Toast one last puff and two last regrets. Three spirits and twelve lonely steps. Up heaven's stairway to gold-_ ”

 

Louis’ eyes are gleaming with tears. His thin lips are squeezed together as Harry’s rough voice fills the dreary bedroom. He’s trying to choke down sobs.

 

” _My heart would break without you, might not awake without you. Been hurting low from living high for so long. I’m sorry, and_ ** _I love you_** _. Stay with me, ’Bell Bottom Blue’. I'll keep on searching for an answer 'cause I need you more than dope_ ”, Harry caresses Louis’ hair while singing and looks him in the eye.

 

And somewhere there his voice breaks into sobs and his whole body is shaken by the inhales he tries to take. Louis grabs Harry's face with his two hands and focuses on Harry's glossy green infinite eyes.

 

”Hey. I. Love. You. You hear me? I love you. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I love youuuu-” Louis chants before attaching their lips together and kissing Harry hard, like his life would depend on it. Which it kinda does. Kinda.

 

They have sex.

 

 

**vi.**

 

 

Their first real fight was after moving in together.

 

Harry was annoyed because Louis was too messy and didn’t do laundry almost ever, reminding him that he was the one to take care of the apartment and their living.

 

Louis was mad because Harry can’t tell him what to do, and he had never asked him for special treatment. But it really wasn’t about that, it was about Harry’s suspiciously attractive ex-boyfriend Nick Grimshaw popping out of nowhere. They had brunch and coffee together repeatedly, and Harry’d come home beaming and babbling on and on about the celebrities Nick had interviewed.

 

Their relationship was already taking a dip from all the work and living together -related stress, so another man making Harry happy instead of Louis? No, he couldn’t have that obviously.

 

There had been a lot of shouting and swear words and well it could’ve ended up to a make out session, but it didn’t. It ended up Harry slamming the door shut and Louis shouting something about him escaping to Nick’s. He had stayed at home, crying a little bit. He had crawled up in their bed, wearing an oversized hoodie, Harry’s hoodie smelling like Harry. Louis had fallen asleep around three a.m.

 

In the morning, Harry had come back to find Louis sitting in the middle of the hallway, eyes a little red. Fringe hanging soft, fingers poking out of the long sleeves, bare feet.

 

They had hugged a long time and apologized a lot. It turned out Harry hadn’t gone to Nick’s, but stayed in his car for the night. They made a promise to never fight again. But they did, of course.

 

From that day on Harry always baked something after they fought. Louis didn’t complain.

 

 

**vii.**

 

 

A few weeks later, Louis’ having a rough morning. They have just got home from the hospital, where the doctor told them Louis’ll soon be reaching stage two. They would have six months home before Louis would be taken into the hospital so that they could keep an eye on him.

 

So now they’re cooking, blasting Norah Jones from their stereos. They’re singing along and Louis’s placing nachos over the casserole they’re making, and Harry’s follows with cheddar cheese, spreading it on the nachos. The album ends as they put the casserole in the oven and the apartment goes silent. Louis stares through the window, sighing heavily. There are days when the silence is overwhelming.

 

They both startle when the phone rings. Harry reaches out to pick it up. It’s Louis’ mother calling him about the doctor’s. Harry hands him the phone and Louis gives a full briefing on today’s news. Harry hears his mother sobbing through the phone, but Louis just sounds tired. So tired. The phone call ends.

 

Louis’ parents are busy, and what’s the point in them pampering their son for a full year, when Harry’s here to do it for them. They have other lives depending on them. Harry has just Louis. The guys also pop in from time to time. To play FIFA and just talk about their life. Normal lives, with no one dying. It’s nice. Very quiet when they leave. Louis always likes them to be around reminding him that Harry won’t be all alone when he’s gone.

 

Now Louis’s wearisomely pushing himself toward the window. It’s snowing again and everything is white and cold and mushy. It’s Louis’ last winter. Just like it was his last New Year’s and last Christmas and last everything. He might not eat this food ever again, or hear that song or see that movie.

 

Harry follows him and nuzzles his cold nose against Louis’ neck kissing it gently.

 

”I don’t wanna go”, Louis whispers and Harry knows what he’s feeling. Well, sorta. ”I want to see this again, I want to see next winter and the next Christmas sales and the next fireworks. I want to see the new Avengers movie that’s coming out in December, I want to hear Katy Perry’s next album and I want to go to Liam’s birthday party. I want to do it all with you”.

 

This kind of talk isn’t Louis’ style. He rarely talks about it all. Just kinda wants to live normally till the end (to be quite honest, Harry was sure Louis would have some kind of a bucket list to pursue, but even if he did, he’d be too weak to probably do any of those things anymore). But he’s right. Even if he wasn’t dying, Harry’d think they have too little time together. And now, well now they have six months.

 

”Let’s get married”, Harry blurts out. It's not romantic or anything. He’s been thinking it for a while now. He doesn’t want to be the guy who’s boyfriend died. He doesn’t want people to think he was just unlucky. He wants everyone to know, that he was there till the end, that Louis wasn’t just some guy, that he was **it** , _the one_ for him. And he wants rings to prove it. Louis cocks his head up to look Harry in the eye.

 

”I, uh, been thinking and, well, I want you to be my husband. And I want to be yours. I want everyone to know how ironically lucky I am. I know we don’t have much time left but—”

 

”Harry _Edward_ Styles, are you proposing to me?” Louis lets out a tiny laugh. Harry grins because yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. He decides to do it proper and Louis thinks he can’t breathe. So Harry gets on one knee, takes Louis’ hand to his own and looks at his face through his fluttering eyelashes.

 

”Louis William Tomlinson, would you do me the infinite honor of being my husband?” he asks, just the tiniest bit nervous, like Louis would ever deny him anything.

 

”Yes, _god_ of course I do, Harry, _yes_ ”, Louis exclaims, smile so wide it could split his face in half. Harry lifts him to his arms to spin him around before pulling him into a kiss. It's so bittersweet. _Till death do us apart_. Likely after that, too.

 

They go to buy the rings the next day.

 

 

**viii.**

 

 

The wedding is a week later, it isn’t fancy or anything. Zayn, Liam, Niall and their parents take the day off to come to the city hall. Louis and Harry wear their best suits anyway. Louis tries to not think the fact that the next time Harry will be wearing that suit, it will be to his own funeral. They have a moment before the ceremony, standing in the hallway.

 

”Harry”, Louis says silently, squeezing his soon-to-be husband’s hand.

 

”Yeah?” he asks and looks at Louis. They both have their hair on a quiff (thanks to Zayn) and matching handkerchiefs in their pockets. Niall brought them a beautiful bouquet of white roses from the florist’s he works at.

 

”M’glad we’re doing this”, Louis says simply, and his eyes have never looked more beautiful. Harry marks that memory down for later.

 

”Me too, you’re the love of my life, Lou”, he answers a bit bitterly.

 

”M’sorry that I’m gonna miss our first anniversary, I’ll try to hang around for the biannual day though”, Louis says sounding dryly amused.

 

”It's okay, promise”, Harry whispers, ”m’gonna celebrate ’em all”.

 

”I love you”, Louis says looking Harry in the eye.

 

”I love you too”.

 

The ceremony is simple. Liam cries a bit (he’s a big baby). Louis gets to throw the bouquet.

 

 

**ix.**

 

 

Louis soon regresses to the second stage of his disease. Harry notices soon enough, when two weeks later he wakes up in the middle of the night to Louis screaming.

 

He sits up heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Hands shaking and eyes searching for the source of the noise. He quickly jumps off the bed, stumbling through the hallway to the living room to find Louis leaning against the wall.

 

He’s sitting in a fetal position, slim arms wrapped tightly around his legs, head resting on the gap of his knees, shaking. He’s taking shallow breaths too quickly and whimpering loudly. Harry spins around and heads for the kitchen where they keep their paper bags, Louis lets out a loud cry - a shout almost.

 

Harry comes back with the bag and a pack of Polo’s, kneeling in front of Louis, who’s sweaty and teary and quite possibly drooling.

 

”Hey now, love. You’re breathing all too quickly, can you try to, uh— to say your name?” Harry tries to keep his voice steady and calm, even though his hands are shaking. This is the worst panic attack Louis has had yet.

 

His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out besides the little cries. Harry reaches for the Polo and places one in Louis’ open mouth. They say it helps if he can taste something.

 

”Okay, chew this yeah?” Harry strokes Louis’ hair gently and hopes that he will continue breathing through his nose. He reaches for the brown paper bag and opens it. Louis grabs it quickly from his hand and squeezes it around his mouth and nose. He continues to breathe quickly, but the shaking eases a little. Harry wonders if he should phone an ambulance. Not yet, probably.

 

After another loud burst of tears and retching, Harry’s starting to lose hope. You know panic attacks can’t exactly kill anyone, but listening to it is awful, moreover when it’s a person he loves having it. You can’t do anything to make that person feel better, and you don’t know what can make it worse. He wants to hold Louis, but he knows better.

 

So he just stares at the painting they have across the room. Well, it’s not exactly a painting more than just a poster of a painting. There are four men in some kind of silk coats in the 1800s, wearing white wigs, stockings and high heels. They’re in a fancy hall or something, grouching over a painting. One of them is sitting. It’s a painting from some European guy, Berndtson or summat.

 

Louis cries out loud.

 

Harry gets an idea. At least he thinks it might help. He swallows and starts, trying to keep the shaking off his voice:

 

” _A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather I was praying that you and me might end up together. It’s like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert, but I’m holding you closer than most, ’cause you are my heaven-_ ”

 

Harry hopes this works. Louis always asks him to sing something, and back in the day he used to sing with him. Louis has the most beautiful voice you know. It’s so fragile, almost like glass. Sounds like an angel. Louis has an angel’s voice. And soon he’ll be among them. Harry’s voice cracks a little but he continues.

 

” _As my train rolls down the east coast I wonder how you keep warm, it’s too late to cry, too broken to move on. And still I can't let you be, most nights I hardly sleep. Don’t take what you don't need from me_ ”.

 

Louis’ cries are starting to calm down a little by little as Harry sings, so he repeats the chorus again. He doesn’t remember the rest. Shit. Next song, um-

 

” _I can’t believe what you said to me last night we were alone. You threw your arms up, baby you gave up, you gave up-_ ”

 

Louis’ breaths are starting to steady, but he hold on the the paper bag as he leans against Harry, who immediately wraps his arms loosely around him. He feels proud, he did this, because of him Louis feels better now.

 

” _I’ll never talk again, oh boy you’ve left me speechless. You’ve let me speechless, so speechless. And I’ll never love again, oh friend you’ve left me speechless-_ ”

 

Louis is starting to relax on Harry’s arms, and he lets the paper bag drop from his face with his hand. And that’s the moment Harry realizes, that Louis is tired. That no matter how hard he wants to hold onto life, he’s too tired, too weak to hold his grip. For the first time, Harry realizes, that Louis is done, that he wants to give up. And Harry’s the only thing stopping him from doing so. He chokes on the lyrics.

 

”I’ll fetch you some water”, he whispers, voice hoarse. Louis just nods tiredly.

 

 

**x.**

 

 

Roughly six months later it’s their biannual anniversary. Louis is taken to the hospital.

 

Harry wakes up in the morning, not really well rested, since Louis got a severe panic attack that night. To his horror he finds Louis next to him in bed (he hasn’t been there in weeks) nearly conscious. His eyes rolled back to his head, mouth open and breathing only barely.

 

Harry starts crying right then. He literally throws himself off the bed to reach his phone and calls an ambulance. He grips Louis by the wrist and shakes maybe a little bit too harsh, since the boy shoots up looking bewildered and deranged. His gaze bouncing around the room, stopping on Harry’s face. He doesn’t seem to recognize him. Harry chants his name like some mantra, but it doesn’t help.

 

Louis has calmed down when the paramedics arrive to lift him on a stretcher. Harry’s still crying the whole ride to the hospital.

 

Hours later the doctor tells Harry the bad news: Louis is gradually sinking into the fourth stage. It is - it has always been inevitable. Still he has hard time accepting it.

 

Harry enters Louis’ room, where he’s laying on the hospital bed, conscious, but tired. Louis is so thin; he has lost weight during the last three months and he’s pale, his skin is like ivory. He looks so fragile and Harry has to look away for a moment to stop the tears that are already making his vision blurry.

 

”What’s the matter? Can’t even look at me?” Louis says silently from the bed. Harry shakes his head even though he’s right.

 

Harry sits beside Louis’ bed, taking his hand to his and squeezing it lightly.

 

”M’sorry”, he says and Louis shakes his head weakly, frail fringe dropping to the side.

 

”Don’t be. I know m’hard to look at, but can you at least try? I’d hate to miss those green eyes of yours before I turn into a potato”, Louis says and chuckles, making Harry smile, ”have you called my parents yet? And the lads?”

 

”Yeah, everyone’s coming soon, promise”, Harry smiles reassuringly and squeezes Louis’ hand again, he squeezes it back. He's been making a lot of promises lately, promises he can't keep. He doesn’t want anyone to come in just yet. He just wants some time with Louis alone.

 

 

**xi.**

 

 

For two weeks, Louis’ parents and the lads take turns on being with Louis in the hospital. Since he can’t sleep, all the company is welcome. They have an exemption from the hospital. Harry visits Louis in the morning and they talk about normal stuff, work and news and that kind of things.

 

Niall drops by with flowers and funny stories from work. Zayn visits Louis and they talk about TV-shows and movies. With Liam he usually talks about sports or something.

 

The last time he and Harry talk, it’s on a hot Friday in July. Like the kind of hot when you step out of the shower and for the next four hours you don’t know if you’re still wet or sweaty already. The sun is shining from a clear sky and if you don’t park your car wisely, you’ll be sitting in a sauna when you come back from wherever you’ve been.

 

It’s cool in the hospital though. Obviously.

 

Harry’s sitting beside Louis’ bed and they’re holding hands. They’re always holding hands. Louis’ parents have gone home for a little bit, the lads too. Louis has been looking exhausted all day and his speech is slow and faltering. He’s almost merged to the bed he’s been lying for two weeks now. The doctor says it’ll be over any day now.

 

Louis looks at Harry in the eye and grins.

 

”I managed to— hang around to our— biannual”, he says silently with a sigh.

 

Harry smiles at him. ”Yes, indeed you did. M’proud of you, _husband_ ”. The word still gives butterflies in his stomach.

 

Louis snorts. ”Yeah, and some husband— I am right? Struggling to— stay alive to see— our half year— anniversary”.

 

Harry feels the tears coming. He shakes his head to make them go away. He can’t cry, crying means Louis’s going to die. And he isn’t. He isn't going to die, Harry has decided that very firmly.

 

”Wish I’d— done something important y’know. So people wouldn’t— forget me”, Louis sighs.

 

” _I_ won’t forget you. You’re the love of my life, Lou. There will be no one after you. Like, I know you want me to start a new life after you yeah? But… honestly I don’t think I can. It’s- you are my-” a tear drops down Harry’s cheek, another one follows and he shakes his head again. ”I can’t explain it's like…”

 

”I know”, Louis helps Harry out when he can’t find any words. ”M’sorry I’m dying”.

 

_”Don’t”,_ Harry whispers.

 

”You think— m’gonna go— to heaven or summat like?” Louis asks, silently.

 

Harry smiles, tears glistening in his eyes. ”Of course. You’ll be the prettiest angel of all. You’ll be sitting right there on the edge of a cloud, watching me, with your wings spread open and your feet hanging from the edge. And you’ll sing so beautifully that all the other famous singers in heaven will praise you and love you just— as much as I do. And you’ll be— dancing from one cloud to another and— once in a while, if you’re not too busy— you’ll come down here to keep me company”, Harry’s crying now and the lump in his throat makes talking really difficult. He’s imagining angel Louis sitting in heaven, surrounded by all the love he’s ever gotten.

 

”You think— so?” Louis asks, he’s not crying. He looks so calm, so ready. He’s been ready for a long time.

 

”I know so”.

 

”Do you think that— Michael Jackson will be there?”

 

”Right next door”, Harry chuckles through his tears.

 

”Harry?”

 

”Yeah?”

 

”Could you— sing to me?”

 

Harry nods and tries to gather himself. Wiping the tears off his face - it’s not really helpful since he’s still crying a bit - and swallows quickly to wash down the lump in his throat. Then he starts singing, and his voice bounces from the cold hospital room walls.

 

” _And when we meet, which I'm sure we will. All that was there, will be there still. I’ll let it pass and hold my tongue. And you will think, that I've moved on-_ ”

 

Louis recognizes the song, and his eyes seem a bit glossy, but Harry refuses to think about it. He can cry all he wants later, but right now, he has to stay strong for Louis. He gently strokes his hand. And he has to keep singing. He can make it through the chorus.

 

” _I will go down with this ship, and I won't put my hands up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love and always - will be_ ”.

 

Louis nods and there’s tears in his eyes.

 

”M’the— ship, aren’t I?” he whispers.

 

Harry just tightens his grip on Louis’ hand and looks at him. There’s nothing more to say. Not really.

 

”You’re coming— tomorrow?” Louis asks gently, not breaking the eye contact.

 

”Yeah”, Harry nods, he doesn’t want to leave just yet.

 

”Hey there. I love you. I’m _in_ love— with you. I’ve always _been_ in— love with you. I’ll always— be in love you, no matter— where I am. I’ll love you even— when I’m no longer in this world. You have— to know that”, Louis says heavily, taking deep breaths. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, tears escaping from the corners of his eyes. Louis pulls him gently.

 

Harry opens his eyes and looks at Louis. He intertwines their fingers and leans in to kiss him. They both cry into each other’s mouths but don’t stop. Harry doesn’t think they’ll ever stop. They whisper silent _I love you_ ’s in between. Their warm tongues sweep smoothy and their lips work in harmony. Their sobs quiet down, eventually. When they pull away, they’re both looking terrible and rugged.

 

”Tomorrow, then”, Louis smiles weakly.

 

”Goodbye, Louis”, Harry says, it’s come more of a habit, now. He stands up, but Louis doesn’t let go of his hand, so he turns to look at him.

 

”Try to remember me— yeah?” he says softy.

 

Harry lets out a tearful chuckle. ”Always”.

 

”Maybe I’ll get some sleep tonight”.

 

Harry can’t answer.

 

”So I’ll see you— around, Haz”.

 

”See you around, Lou”.

 

 

**xii.**

 

 

(Louis falls into a coma that night and is no longer responsive to his environment).

 

(Harry comes in every day for the next six months to read Louis the daily paper (sports section)).

 

(After six months Louis’ vital signs crash).

 

(A year later Harry publishes the poems he has written over the years).

 

(He still comes to Louis’ grave every Sunday to read the sports section).

 

 

 

**_fin._ **

 

 

  [tumblr](http://ysl-harry.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> this sounded better when i was writing it oh well
> 
> songs in order of appereance:  
> lady gaga - dope  
> ron pope - drop in the ocean  
> lady gaga - speechless  
> dido - white flag


End file.
